The Dollhouse Murders (9 page)

Amy wished it, too. But when the bell finally rang ending her last class for the day, she was glad there were a couple of hours left for the final preparations. The pizza should be all ready to pop into the oven when the girls arrived. Amy had never made pizza, but she intended to watch Aunt Clare carefully and learn. Next time, she'd be able to do it all herself.

She rode her bike home from school, hoping her father would be at Aunt Clare's with the cake when she turned into the yard. She missed him—perhaps because he always seemed like an island of calm in the midst of
the storms that marked her relationship with her mother.

Aunt Clare came out on the back porch and stood there while Amy wheeled her bike into the garage.

“Did Dad bring the cake?”

Her aunt nodded. “About an hour ago. He was sorry to miss you.” She came down the steps, an odd expression on her face.

“What's the matter?” Amy demanded. “He's okay, isn't he?”

“He's fine,” Aunt Clare said. “Nothing's wrong—I mean, not really. I just know you're going to be upset, and I'm sorry about it. I don't want anything to spoil this evening for you.”

“What is it?” Amy followed Aunt Clare's glance and ran up the steps to the back door. “Something
is
wrong, I can tell—”

She burst into the kitchen and skidded to a stop. Louann was sitting at the table eating cookies and drinking milk.

“Hi, Amy.” She smiled brightly, through a milky mustache. “I came to the party.”

Amy felt Aunt Clare's hand on her shoulder. “It was an emergency,” she said. “Do you remember your mother's friend Barbara? She lives in Sun Prairie, just outside of Madison. She called around noon today and asked if your mother could come and help her for a day or two. Her husband must have surgery—very unexpected—and there are two small children. . . .” She stopped for breath. “Your mother felt she couldn't say
no, particularly since your father was driving out that way this afternoon. They tried to get Mrs. Peck to take Louann for the weekend, but she's going with her granddaughter and the family to a lake cottage for a couple of days. There was just no other way—”

“Mom could have taken Louann with her,” Amy said. “She could have done that if she'd wanted to.”

Aunt Clare didn't argue. “I know how you feel—”

“No, you don't.”

“I came to the party,” Louann repeated, but timidly now. She was watching Amy's expression. “Mom said I could. Dad and I brought the birthday cake. Look at it, Amy.” She pointed to a big box on the counter.

Amy went over to the box. The cake was pale yellow, with roses in clusters around the delicate green script:
Happy Birthday, Amy and Ellen
. There was a big
13
below the words.

“It's a beautiful cake,” Aunt Clare said. “Your mother must have worked on it for hours.”

Amy's eyes blurred with tears. She hated the cake. It was a bribe to make Amy let Louann come to her party.

“I bet there's nothing wrong with Barbara's husband,” she said. “I bet he'd be surprised if he found out he's supposed to be in the hospital.”

“Oh, Amy!” Aunt Clare sounded shocked. “You don't really believe that.”

“Yes, I do. My mother doesn't care what I want—ever!”

Louann's face crumpled. “I want to go home,” she whimpered. “I don't like it here. You're mean, Amy!”

“Girls!” Aunt Clare looked helplessly from one to the other. “It's going to be all right.” She tried to put her arm around Amy's shoulders, but Amy pulled away. Then she went to Louann, circling her warily, as if she were from another planet. “If we can all just calm down for a minute,” she pleaded. “Let's talk this over like grown-ups. . . .”

Amy ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn't want to calm down. She didn't want to grow up and be reasonable and take responsibility—not if it meant taking care of Louann every day of her life. She was shaking with anger, and with something else—a feeling too dark to cope with in front of anyone else. For she had suddenly realized it wasn't just the birthday cake she hated. At that moment, she hated her mother, too.

When Amy came back downstairs, Louann was watching Aunt Clare roll pizza dough on the kitchen table. A bowl of tomato sauce stood at one end of the table next to another of cheese, and the spicy smell of freshly browned sausage filled the room.

“Hi.” Aunt Clare lunged at the circle of dough with the rolling pin, as if attacking it made her feel better. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Amy met her aunt's eyes. “I'm sorry. I just don't like being tricked—”

“Well, I'm sure you're wrong about that,” Aunt Clare interrupted smoothly. She folded the circles of pastry into quarters for easy handling and transferred them to greased baking sheets. “Here, party girl, it's your turn to work on the refreshments. Louann has
broken up the cheese into small pieces, and the sausage is all ready. Just sprinkle plenty of each over the crusts, while I mince some garlic for the tomato sauce. This is an old family recipe—straight out of
Better Homes and Gardens
.”

Amy brought the sausage skillet from the stove and set to work. She felt exhausted, and she knew her eyes were red from the storm of tears that had filled the last half-hour.

“I helped Aunt Clare,” Louann said. She pushed the bowl of cheese across the table, watching Amy uneasily. “I fixed the cheese.”

“Good for you.” Amy knew she sounded cranky. “You did a good job,” she added. “These are going to be great pizzas.”

The uneasiness vanished at once. “These are going to be great pizzas,” Louann agreed. “I'm going to tell everybody at the party that I helped.”

Amy sighed. Her sister usually talked constantly when she had an audience, and because Amy's friends were unsure how to react, they would pretend to be interested when they weren't. Amy could imagine just how the evening would go.

“I wish you'd try not to—” she began, then gave up. What was the use? The party was spoiled, anyway. She wondered what Ellen would say—Ellen, who had called off their hike when she thought Louann would be coming along.

Aunt Clare seemed to guess her thoughts. “One thing to remember at the party, Louann,” she said crisply, “is
that all the girls will have things to talk about. I'm sure what they say will be interesting, so most of the time you must be a good listener.”

Louann looked astonished. “I can't talk?”

“Of course you can talk. I said
most of the time
. Will you try to remember that?”

“Sure,” Louann said. “I can listen. I can make puppets, too. I brought my puppet, Amy. I can show it to the girls at the party.”

Amy cast a despairing look at her aunt. Louann was already thinking of it as
her
party. By the time the guests arrived, she'd be so excited there would be no calming her.

“Where will I sleep tonight?” Louann demanded. “I want to see.”

Aunt Clare came back to the table with a saucer containing tiny slivers of garlic. “I suppose we can open up another bedroom,” she said. “Louann can just ignore the dust. And we'll have to get some more bedding from the attic.”

Amy shuddered. The last thing she wanted right now was another trip to the attic. “She can sleep with me,” she said quickly. “She should, anyway. If she's in a room by herself, she might wake up in the middle of the night and come looking for me. She could get all mixed up in a strange house.”

“Won't get mixed up,” Louann protested. But she looked pleased with the answer to her question. “Show me where we sleep, Amy.”

“You can go up and look at it,” Amy replied. “It's
the first room at the top of the stairs. Take your bag with you.” She pointed at the duffel bag that stood next to the kitchen door.

When Louann had left, Amy picked up the bowl of tomato sauce. “I've finished with the cheese and sausage,” she said. “Shall I spoon the sauce over the top?”

“Right,” Aunt Clare replied. “I've put a tablecloth on the dining room table, with some small plates and glasses for Coke or whatever. I'll turn the oven on as soon as the girls get here.”

“I'm really sorry about the way I acted—before,” Amy mumbled. “I know it's not your fault the way things turned out.”

“No, it isn't.” Aunt Clare went to a window and looked out into the twilight. “You know, Amy, I feel sorry for Louann tonight. She knows very well she wasn't invited to your party, and she's uncomfortable, even if she doesn't show it much. She's accustomed to being smothered with attention. While you were upstairs, she kept saying she wanted to go home. I told her everything would be all right, but—”

“It will be,” Amy said. “Don't worry. It was just seeing her here when I wasn't expecting her—”

“I know.”

A car door slammed. “They're here,” Amy said, grateful for the interruption. She hurried down the hall to the front door.

Ellen and Cissie were climbing out of the front seat of the Kramers' Buick. Three more girls spilled out of the back, giggling and bumping into each other as they
sorted themselves out. Mrs. Kramer waved as Amy came down the front steps, and the car moved off down the driveway. “Happy birthday!” the girls shouted in a chorus.

The party had begun.

Since she fully expected to be miserable all evening, it took Amy a while to realize that everyone else was having a good time. The girls quickly settled on the parlor floor with soft drinks close by and the potato chips and very special dip in the center of the circle. Aunt Clare came in, briefly, to meet everyone, and Louann sat, cross-legged next to Amy.

“My mother had to go away,” Amy explained to Ellen in a low voice. And then to the others, “I guess you all know my sister Louann.” Louann looked at them, speechless for the moment.

“This is great!” Kathy Sells exclaimed. “Friday night and a party, and next week school is over.” She plunged a chip into the creamy dip and leaned back. “I love this big old house, Amy. Lucky you, to be able to stay here. It's like a movie set.”

“A movie set for a ghost picture,” Midge Anders added. “If I lived here, I'd be looking for spooks around every corner.”

If she only knew
, Amy thought. “Is someone going to tell fortunes?” she asked, to change the subject.

“I am.” Cissie produced a deck of cards from her bulging shoulder bag. “And Kathy has her aunt's makeup samples. She's going to show us how—”

“Your eyebrows look funny,” Louann said to Kathy, her shyness vanishing abruptly. “You look like you have crayon on them.”

There was an embarrassed silence, and Amy felt her face grow hot. But Kathy just grinned. “I know I haven't got it right,” she admitted. “Give me time, Louann. My aunt keeps saying ‘Don't use too much,' but how do I know what too much is?”

They all laughed, and Amy relaxed. Louann crawled across the carpet to sit beside Kathy. “You're pretty anyway,” she said. “You're nice.”

Kathy looked pleased. “Well, thanks,” she said. “I like your pants suit, Louann. It's my favorite shade of blue.”

Louann nodded. “It's nice,” she agreed. “I picked it out with my mom. Do you want to see the puppet I made?”

“What they want is food—in just a few minutes,” Aunt Clare said from the hall. “How about helping me, Louann? You and I have important work to do.”

Louann looked around regretfully but did as she was asked.

“Who wants to be first to have her fortune told?” Cissie spread out the cards and, without waiting for an answer, pointed at Ellen. “Birthday girls first,” she said. “Come over here and sit in front of the Great Zorina Who Tells All.”

The cards showed that Ellen had a year of great happiness ahead of her. A blond man would come into her life. (“Probably the paper boy,” Ellen groaned.) She
would make a special new friend. (“That's you, Amy!”) And she would be successful at whatever she did in the next two months. (“What I'm going to do for the next two months is sleep late every morning. I'll be a very successful sleeper.”)

Amy had just taken Ellen's place in front of the Great Zorina when Louann returned. “The pizza's ready,” she said. “I put it on the table, Amy.”

The girls scrambled to their feet. “Pizza,” Carol Tekla squealed, “that's all I want in my future.”

Louann led the way into the dining room. “You sit here, Kathy,” she ordered. “I'm going to sit next to you.”

“You'd better sit next to me, Louann,” Amy began, but Kathy took Louann's hand.

“You and I are buddies, Louann,” she said. “After supper I'll make you up like a movie star.”

“No eyebrows,” Louann said, and looked surprised when everyone laughed.

For the rest of the evening, Louann hardly left Kathy's side.
Kathy's really wonderful
, Amy thought.
She treats Louann like a friend, not a pest. Why can't I do that?
But, of course, she reminded herself, Kathy didn't have Louann with her every day. It was easy enough to be patient for a couple of hours.

Aunt Clare stayed out of sight while they ate, except for a time or two when Louann's voice drowned out all other conversation. Then she appeared at the door to the kitchen, looked at Louann hard, and gave a tiny shake of her head. Each time, Louann quieted. She
seemed to accept the reproof, as long as it was given discreetly.

When the pizza platters were empty, the girls carried the plates to the kitchen. Amy put a tape on her player, and Kathy set out the makeup samples after covering the table with newspaper. Each guest took a turn in front of the mirror—and cold-creamed away most of the results—and then Cissie produced her fortune-telling cards again.